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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Alice Corbin

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Three Men Entered the Desert Alone

Alice Corbin

From “New Mexico Songs”

THREE men entered the desert alone.

But one of them slept like a sack of stone

As the wagon toiled and plodded along,

And one of them sang a drinking song

He had heard at the bar of The Little Cyclone.

Then he too fell asleep at last,

While the third one felt his soul grow vast

As the circle of sand and alkali.

His soul extended and touched the sky,

His old life dropped as a dream that is past,

As the sand slipped off from the wagon wheel—

The shining sand from the band of steel—

While the far horizon widened and grew

Into something he dimly felt he knew,

And had always known, that had just come true.

His vision rested on ridges of sand,

And a far-off horseman who seemed to stand

On the edge of the world—in an orange glow

Rising to rose and a lavender tone,

With an early star in a turquoise band.

And his spirit sang like a taper slim,

As the slow wheels turned on the desert’s rim

Through the wind-swept stretches of sand and sky,

He had entered the desert to hide and fly,

But the spell of the desert had entered him.

Three men entered the desert alone.

One of them slept like a sack of stone,

One of them reached till he touched the sky.

The other one dreamed, while the hours went by

Of a girl at the bar of The Little Cyclone.